


quick fix insomnia

by ficfucker



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Comfort, Comfort Sex, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nightmares, Porn With Plot, Sleepy Sex, back at it with the smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 22:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13579809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: ryan has never been able to sleepand after a nightmare, the mere idea of sleep has gone out the windowluckily, shane has a trick up his sleeve





	quick fix insomnia

Ryan knew he was an insomniac since an early age. 

When he was little, around 6 or 7, when his anxiety was just starting to bud and bloom into something that would follow him for the rest of his life, sleep was what he looked forward to least during the day. He swung erratically between thinking “If I’m not awake, someone can kill me” and “If I’m asleep, I am missing out on what the world is doing”. 

He had done all the things recommended by friends, physicians, family. Ryan had tried the hot showers before bed, the meditation, guided and not, acupuncture, even weekly visits to sleep doctors for several months.  

Some tactics soothed him, combed out his demons enough to relax, but nothing that worked like magic to get him to sleep. 

When Shane and Ryan first started sleeping together outside of places where Shane knew Ryan would have such high anxiety from the paranormal, Shane had a hard time adjusting to Ryan’s sleeping partners; he felt guilty knowing his boyfriend was still awake while he snored. 

Ryan assured him it was alright, that for him running on 3 hours of rest was sustainable, and eventually Shane stopped trying to match Ryan’s habits. 

 

Ryan had just fallen asleep, at the ripe hour of 2 in the morning, and was actually enjoying his rest, sleeping deeply, which was uncommon for him, like he was sinking into thick, warm syrup, and for once, his mind and body weren’t fighting it. 

And then the syrup was gone. 

And Ryan was falling fast, his heart sinking, the drop of a rollercoaster, the jump from an airplane, the fall from the tallest building in New York. 

Ryan woke fast, breath seized in his throat, a thin, fine sheen of sweat enveloping his body like a layer of clear plastic, and his eyes were frantic. 

He knew he had had a nightmare. The feeling was familiar, but he couldn’t even remember what had scared him so much as to wake him from it. That happened often with his nightmares, being jolted up and so startled, he couldn’t recall any of what was scaring him so desperately. 

Shane felt around the bed, hand padding through the white sheets until it turned up on Ryan’s thigh and gave a little squeeze, asking, in a sleepy drawl, “Ya alright, Ryan?”

Ryan’s muscles loosened like yarn at the touch, warm against his bare skin, and he placed his palm on top of the back of Shane’s hand. “Yeah, just, uh, just a nightmare…,” he murmured. 

A little hum sound grew from Shane’s throat and he yawned, squishing Ryan’s thigh again. “Cmere, love…” Shane turned on his back and patted at his chest, like he was beckoning a dog, or maybe a cat, to come cuddle up to him. 

Ryan wasn’t one to oppose. He settled back into the sheets and wiggled himself in next to Shane, his head nestled to his chest, their legs tangled, a lazy grape vine growing into itself. 

“Jus’ breathe… Ain’t nothin’,” Shane reassured him. His breathing was shallow, heart a steady metronome that Ryan focused on. 

“I dunno if I can get back to sleep now,” Ryan mumbled. He was completely awake, beyond the bridge of sleep, and if anything, staying up until sunrise and going from there would probably be less frustrating than attempting to get back to sleep. 

“Wan’ me to help?” Shane offered. 

Ryan’s eyebrows knit together, and had he been in the position for it, he would have tilted his head to look at Shane for some kind of contextual clue. Instead, he just made a “hm?” sound. 

Shane shifted a bit and his hand took up place on Ryan’s thigh as if it belonged there, and Shane began to knead his fingers. “Ya know… relax ya a bit, help ya calm down.” 

_ Oh _ . 

Ryan understood now. 

Hell, he should have understood just by the suggestion; it wasn’t the first time Shane had offered something sexual, something that lead to orgasm, to bring Ryan back down to earth. 

“Don’t have to,” Ryan replied despite the feeling rising in his stomach.

Another hum from Shane. His kneading turned into his index finger tracing the inner curve of Ryan’s thigh, his motion drowsy and loose, the panic in Ryan’s heart thawing to arousal. 

And then Shane’s palm was cupped to Ryan’s groin, caressing him blindly through his boxers, the rest of his arm slack while his wrist did the work, getting Ryan up to full erection. 

Christ, that was an easy task. Ryan was enamored with Shane, always had been, even when they were just coworkers, and Shane’s touch reduced him to a horny teenager, heart a fantastic engine. 

And the warmth of Shane, the subtle smell of his soap, Irish Spring, the sound of his breathing only added fuel to the fire. 

“Suc’ a good boy fer me,” Shane murmured as his hand bent at Ryan’s waistband, shimmying his boxers down just enough so Ryan’s cock was exposed.

Between the praise and the subtle relief from being so pressed against the fabric of his underwear, Ryan let out a tiny whimper, embarrassed that it was so simple to make him quiver, biting at his bottom lip. 

“Shane,” he whispered. His voice was frail as glass. 

“Wan’ me to touch you?” Shane asked. 

Ryan didn’t have much chance to respond; Shane’s long, angular fingers curled around Ryan’s shaft and his breath caught in his throat, his hips wanting to buck forward, but his mind steeling his body in place before he could. 

“O-Oh, fuck, Shane…,” Ryan cursed, gripping onto Shane’s flannel, clinging to his boyfriends arm like it was a buoy keeping him afloat in the bed.

Shane made a low sound and proceeded to thumb the top of Ryan’s cock, smearing the precum that had gathered there, clear little beads. 

“Please,” Ryan let out.

Shane obliged. His grip slid down to the base of Ryan’s cock and began to pump at a satisfying pace, not too face, yet not as lazy as the touch had been earlier. The right amount of a pressure and a few twists of the wrist every now and again that made Ryan squirm, made him dig his fingernails deeper into the skin of Shane’s forearm. 

Ryan was wet enough that as Shane continued, his precum completely slicked his shaft, making a “shcccclk” sound as Shane worked his fist, that gross, moist sound that made Ryan want to die from embarrassment, but also, secretly, made him want to cum right then and there. 

“Please, Shane,” Ryan kept repeating, his eyes strained shut and his back slightly lifted off the bed, his body tensed. 

“G’nna cum fer me, love?” Shane asked. He sounded like he was going to doze off any moment now. 

“S-Soon…,” Ryan whimpered. It seemed too fast, and while Ryan wanted to feel ashamed, he always wanted to go the fuck to sleep. 

Shane, despite the tired edge to his voice, worked his fist faster, in shorter, quicker strokes, Ryan’s cockhead bobbing in and out of his fist. “Cum fer me, darlin’,” Shane whispered, ducking his head at an angle just right to kiss the side of Ryan’s head. 

And maybe it was from the innocent smooch, maybe it was because Ryan had been so scared out of his mind moments ago, maybe it was that Shane was just the source of all his arousal, but Ryan came then; spouting thick ropes of cum up onto his stomach, three long bursts before dribbling over Shane’s hand, calling out his name, whole body stiff before relaxing into the bed. 

“Good boy,” Shane praised. He licked the cum off his hand like a cat licking his paw and pulled Ryan a bit closer. 

Ryan was exhausted and blissed out, eyelids heavy, and he’d throw the sheets in the wash tomorrow morning and hop in the shower with Shane. He was too tired to clean his mess and Shane wasn’t complaining over it; they slept like this before. Nothing intimate was gross at this point, they’d done just about everything. 

“G’night, Shane.”

“G’night, baby. Sleep tight.” 

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoy !
> 
> none of this is proofread and i banged this out tonight in one sitting 
> 
> don't forget to comment and leave kudos !!
> 
> [consider buying me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/ficfckr)


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